Wednesday, January 7, 2009

A Letter: More Zanzibar Stories

7 Mistral Valley Lane
Tara Vale

Dear Wizard of Zanzibar,

I wonder what you do between stories?

Do you look for more in the world around you?

Or do you have some secret hobby between times?

Do you ever go looking for a new range of clothes?
Or a new place to live?

Are your clothes mere holograms for those who seek physical, visual satidfaction?

Of course, your home is really anywhere your nomadic feet tire and need rest
Or do you have some special place that tends to encourage your return?

You realise, I am just working toward the inevitable question...

Please ~ Gather more stories!

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Zanzibar arrived at the inn...

Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Solarised track

Zanzibar arrived at the inn...

A swinging sign at the front with a collie on it
Shari's Inn
Friendly name
Softly waiting by the winding forest track
A place to rest peacefully for awhile

Zanzibar entered

Not crowded for this time of day
A couple in a corner and an old man with a pipe

Zanzibar sat at a table near the bar and ordered a beer from the waitress

The inn had charm
Its walls had trinkets of interest
The bar was made of stone with an oakwood top

A collie sat at the end of the bar

As soon as Zanzibar noticed her
The collie came over and sat right in front of him
Her deep brown eyes studied him
Finally she came to a decision
Zanzibar was alright
She stood up
And put her nose under Zanzibar's hand
And again looked into his eyes

Zanzibar felt himself falling into her
He realised his weaknesses
His good
All in a couple of seconds

He finally broke away from the collie's eyes
And gave her a pat on the head

Zanzibar felt power around that he didn't understand

The waitress came over
I see the owner has accepted you
And continued on her chores

Zanzibar looked at the collie
He felt a beautiful sense of comfort and happiness wash over him
As the collie licked his hand

Shari the collie was
A seer
A maestro of
Soul magic

Quietly he smiled
And walked thoughtfully from the inn

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Zanzibar had travelled much in the realms of man...

Zanzibar had travelled much in the realms of man...
So much he had seen...
So much he had learned...

One day, he was travelling toward a tall wooded mountain
A crystal waterfall cascaded down one side
Fresh forest scents enchanted him...

Suddenly Zanzibar heard a whispered voice
It seemed to be coming from a clump of dark rocks

As Zanzibar cautiously peered around the rocks
He was startled to see an old man
A hermit
Muttering to no one in particular

Zanzibar quietly greeted the hermit ~ for fear of startling him

However, the old man seemed not surprised to see him

Greetings! O starry Magician of the Diamond Light!

It was Zanzibar who was startled

Would you like to see a light within the darkness

The old hermit seemed to be speaking as if continuing a conversation with a friend

Indeed I would declared Zanzibar
He knew not what else to say
He still had the diamond and the velvet in his pocket
Perhaps the diamond could do with a new source of energy

Take this steep path behind the rocks
Follow it down into the mountain
Follow it down into the depths of the mountain
And there you will see...

Ever curious
Zanzibar followed the path
Which became a track
Which became a tunnel

The old hermit followed for a while offering encouragement
And then disappeared

Zanzibar found no light
The darkness wrapped warm around him
But there was no light

The diamond...
He took it out of his pocket
Unwrapped the velvet
And cradled the whole in his hands

A mystical light grew around Zanzibar
Emanating from his very soul

Still cradling the diamond in his hands
Zanzibar walked forth
Down down down
Into the depths of the mountain

Finally Zanzibar entered a rugged chamber
Rugged with angular rocks and chipped stone
Rugged and almost totally blackened

And then, he saw it
A flame
Floating whimsically around the chamber

He smiled
He had found the light of all freedom

He chased it
But its blue incandescence
Always danced mischievously ahead of him
He tried to snatch it with his hand
But the palm of his hand burnt with pain
In desperation
He tried to throw his cape over the flame
His cape turned quickly into singed blackened threads

And then
He sat down and watched the flame
Becoming small then large
Dancing and spiralling again

Zanzibar left the remnants of his cape there on the ground

And walked away
With a humble smile
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